


Brothers in Blood

by KateKintail



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Bloodplay, Horsemen, Horsemen Era, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 09:36:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateKintail/pseuds/KateKintail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Kronos/Methos, brothers</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brothers in Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a porn battle

When Methos sees Kronos standing at the mouth of the tent, Methos recognizes the look in those deep, dark eyes. He dismisses Cassandra at once and rolls the flap down over the opening for privacy. It’s been a while since Kronos has visited him. Usually he pleases himself with mortals, but every so often he seems to need more and Methos enjoys it too much to ever refuse it. Silas is too tender and slow for Kronos’ tastes and Caspian cares nothing for the joys of the flesh when he could be out killing.                           

So that leaves Kronos with Methos. And Methos knows better than to refuse him. He also knows better than to go lie down on his bed and submit. He stands his ground, giving his consent with his presence alone.

Kronos grabs him, and Methos struggles.

Kronos hits him, and Methos hits back.

Kronos bites him, and Methos curses him.

They fight, overturning tables, pushing aside furs. They fight, dripping in sweat and frustration of every sort. They fight until blood is drawn.

And then Kronos freezes and stares at it. He stares at the marks Methos’ nails have made in his skin, at the little drops coming to the surface and spilling down the skin. He holds his arm out and Methos stares, too. Then, silently, Methos drops to his knees and touches his tongue to the hot skin. Even as the tiny wounds heal themselves, Methos laps up the traces of blood. He grows hard. He thinks of it as something between an apology and an homage. And he’s not surprised when Kronos states that punishment is called for next.

He makes a play out of resisting, but he allows Kronos to throw him to the ground. Kronos rubs his face in the sand. Kronos climbs onto the backs of Methos’ legs. Kronos pulls out a knife and threatens to do terrible things. He threatens in every language they’ve picked up over their years of pillaging and travelling. He threatens with words and with touch, pinning Methos down so the man could not possibly escape.

The knife cuts into Methos’ back, tracing familiar patterns in the flesh. They’re strange symbols with no specific meaning but which hold more power than anything else. The blood is fresh and bright against the pale skin. Kronos rubs his cock in it and moans.

Kronos’ cock is dripping as he forces it into Methos. Methos relaxes and tightens appropriately, knowing what Kronos likes, knowing what will end this quickly. He struggles and screams until Kronos comes.

And then, with every emotion under the sun running through him, Methos comes as well.


End file.
